Are We Truly United, or Just Pretending?

Are We Truly United, or Just Pretending?

Unity. Such a noble word, isn’t it? Rolls off the tongue with the smoothness of a politician’s handshake and the hollowness of his promises. Every year, we are serenaded with slogans about how “together we stand, divided we fall.” Yet, if you lean in closer, you’ll notice that half the people shouting unity are busy digging pits for the other half to fall into.

Let’s be honest: unity in our society today is a lot like that family reunion where everyone smiles for the group photo, but Auntie May is secretly furious at Uncle Joe for never returning her Tupperware, and Cousin Ali only showed up for the free buffet. United? Sure. But only in pretense, in photographs, and in hashtags. Once the cameras stop clicking, the “togetherness” disintegrates faster than cheap glue in the rain.

We love parading our unity when it’s convenient. On National Day, we wave little flags like cheerleaders of harmony, singing loudly about standing shoulder-to-shoulder. Yet, on the 364 other days, we stand elbow-to-elbow in traffic jams, cursing at strangers who cut into our lane, and muttering slurs at people who don’t look, pray, or vote like us. If this is unity, then clowns are Nobel scientists.

At the workplace, we’re told we’re “one big family.” Lovely words. Except in this family, promotions are mysteriously reserved for the boss’s pet, colleagues backstab each other with the finesse of Olympic fencers, and “teamwork” only means you do the work, while the credit is shared generously with everyone — especially those who contributed nothing but their signature at the bottom of the report. Oh yes, so united we are… in pretending.

Even in times of crisis, unity is often just a façade. Remember when a disaster strikes and suddenly everyone is #PrayForSomewhere? Social media explodes with heartfelt emojis, teary statuses, and collective digital hand-holding. But when the dust settles, when survivors still need help months later, the hashtags are gone, replaced with selfies of brunch plates and the latest TikTok dance craze. The illusion of solidarity is kept alive, but the reality? Empty as a politician’s wallet after election season.

And don’t get me started on “global unity.” Countries strut on the world stage, puffing their chests about peace and cooperation, while secretly sharpening their knives under the table. Trade wars, cyber wars, real wars — but oh, let’s all smile for the G20 photo op. If nations were truly united, then I’m the Sultan of Monaco.

The bitter truth is, unity has become performative — a costume we wear when it suits us, and shed when it gets uncomfortable. We pretend we’re united because the alternative — admitting we’re fractured, selfish, and tribal — is too ugly for the brochure. So we plaster the cracks with slogans, ceremonies, and corporate “family days.”

But here’s the kicker: unity doesn’t need fireworks, hashtags, or parades. It needs sincerity. It needs the small, everyday acts of respect and fairness when no one is watching. Until we get that, until we learn to practice unity instead of just posting it, then we remain what we’ve always been: a society more united in pretending than in truth.